


The Ghost*/No-ghost** Zone"

by keplersghostex (orphan_account)



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: 10/10 would room with aaron, AAU, College AU, M/M, a lil, a(au), come scream with me about kepler's ghost ex i'll explain all, i love aaron, i really need to explain this au to tumblr, i've projected my dream of rooming with kepler's ghost ex, implied eveiffel i guess but it's never mentioned, kepler's ghost ex, this fic is literally an au of an au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 12:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10536447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/keplersghostex
Summary: AU of an AU? Let's do this.College AAU where Aaron (eventually to become Kepler's Ghost Ex) is Eiffel's roommate. There's a meet-cute, dark chocolate, and Eiffel being a lil shit.*There are no ghosts in this.**Not yet.





	

**Author's Note:**

> "Kepler Doesn't Deserve The Happy Ending That He Gets" -- trin
> 
> I haven't written romance in five years.
> 
> Aaron is not a ghost yet in this.

Kepler storms into the room with a fury that Typhon himself would have envied.

"Eiffel, you absolute incompetent excuse for a--" He stops short. There, sitting on the worn couch and reading a book, is not Eiffel, but a stranger. A decidedly not-bad-looking stranger.

"...Hello?" says the guy, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh. Hello." Kepler replies. He feels the blood vessels in his cheeks dilate. _Clearly_ , this is out of embarrassment at yelling at a stranger, _not_ because said stranger is… easy on the eyes, no.

"Have you," he clears his throat. "Seen Doug Eiffel?”

"Yes; he is, in fact, my roommate."

_Is that a touch of sarcasm?_

"Ah. Okay." Kepler shuffles his feet. _Definitely not flustered_. "Do you know where he is? I have to talk to him."

"And tell him what an idiot he is?" The stranger flashes Warren a small smirk ( _Holy shit,_ ) and stands up. "Sounds reasonable to me. I'm Aaron." Still beaming, he offers Kepler his hand.

"Warren," Kepler musters, "Warren Kepler."

"So," Kepler continues, his voice not quite as confident as it had been when he first barged in, "Where is Ei- Doug?"

His face is full on boiling now, and he knows this Aaron can see it, can see right through him.

"I'll just-- I'll just go and find him," he continues, without giving Aaron a chance to respond

Aaron quirks a bemused smile. "He'll be here any minute; why don't you just stay? I don't bite."

Kepler kind of wishes he would.

 

 _Wait, where did that come from?!_ he thinks, panicking for a second. _What if he can read minds oh shit oh shit,_

The whispers that had been going around Goddard about _human trials_ and _aliens_ and _mystic powers_ aren't really helping Kepler's brain calm down.

 

He realizes that he's been standing there blankly for considerably longer than any normal person would think is okay and tries to take a step towards the couch. Which is when the normally impeccably coordinated Warren Kepler trips. And falls.  
Which is also when the man of the hour, Doug Eiffel, strolls in with his usual impeccable timing.

"Eyy, Warren! Been waiting for you to show up and pound my ass about those records. Man, I knew you were desperate, but really? Him?"  
  
It takes Kepler a millisecond to grit his teeth at Eiffel's deliberate phrasing, and an extra microsecond to realize that the latter half of that comment wasn't directed to him, but to Aaron, whose lap he is currently sprawled upon. His fists clench as he scrambles up off of him and onto a different spot on the couch a respectable distance away. Even as he stares daggers at Eiffel while avoiding Aaron's gaze, the sole thought running through Kepler's mind is _he's gay, thank every god and spirit out there_

His next thought is _Oh shit is he dating Eiffel?_

 

His heart burns as he thinks it. _Maybe they're not even dating, just fucking._  
That doesn't feel any better. Eiffel starts moving about the room, whistling as if nothing's happened. Kepler is dreadfully aware that Eiffel is staying in the room to increase the tension It's exactly his style of sick, but the alternative is too much worse to even think about .  
Until, of course, it happens.

 

Right as Kepler thinks he's worked up enough courage to be able to turn around, squeak out a "bye" to Aaron, and run for the hills, Eiffel grabs his keys and jacket and saunters out the door with a "later hun! Don't wait up!" and Kepler's heart drops six floors out of his chest. He can't turn around he _cannot_ and if he's going to have to stay on this couch at this angle for the rest of his life then so be it.  
He doesn't see the face Aaron made right after Eiffel spoke.

If Eiffel had waited a moment longer to play his hand, if Kepler had settled on turning around a touch earlier, Kepler might have seen the grimace that graced Aaron's face. Instead, he sat stock still on the couch, afraid to even breathe. When Aaron's hand dances across the top of his back and rests on his shoulder, he goes as pale as a ghost.

 

"Warren?" comes his voice, and Kepler could listen to it forever-- but no.  
  
"You can turn around you know. The fun's all over here."  
  
When Kepler doesn't respond, Aaron continues, amused, " _I'm_ the fun, Warren."  
  
Kepler's heart decides to follow the route of his breathing and oh, he'd give _anything_ for Aaron to keep saying his name, _Warren, Warren, Warren,_ but also there's a vague alarm bell going off in the back of his head ringing to the tune of _Cheater!_ and so though it takes all of his earthly effort, he shakes off the hand and stiffly draws himself up.

 

"I've...got to go," says Kepler, and his voice is stiff too; everything about him is stiff and he's never hated Eiffel as much as he does now and--  
  
"Oh... alright. You sure you don't want to grab something to eat before you leave? You look kind of pale...."  
  
And Kepler's heart leaps again; oh what a sick circus this is, and _did he just...ask me on a...._  
  
And then Aaron seems to sense his stuttered confusion and hastily gets out "we've got granola bars and gatorade and, uh, some leftover takeout in the fridge..but you probably don't want that....uh, chocolate?"  
  
And the let-down combined with Aaron's use of "we" convinces Kepler that he should stop teasing his heart like this and get the fuck out of this room before he actually gets his heart broken or something and he hates himself for thinking Aaron could have meant _that other thing_ , for entertaining the notion for even a second

Kepler tries to move towards the door but Aaron's in between him and the entrance and he doesn't know how to leave without answering  his question. He can't say he's fine, because he's obviously not and Aaron's eyes are too searching and Kepler's mouth goes dry even as Aaron reaches for the bottle. Aaron takes Kepler's hand and guides him back down to a seated position and hands over the bottle.  
  
"Drink."  
  
It's a soft command, but a firm one. Kepler drinks. He drinks, and as he does, he thinks about how the bottle's been opened before and how right now he's drinking from the same Aaron's lips have touched. This is the closest he'll ever get to kissing him, he thinks, and closes his eyes.  
  
For all his mesmerized state, Kepler really should be paying more attention to Aaron, who's eyes are transfixed on Kepler as he drinks, lingering over his thrown back head, his blissful look, his adam's apple, to where some of the excess water from the bottle has traced a wet, glistening path across Kepler's skin.  
  
If Kepler had been watching Aaron watch him, he would have _known_ that Aaron was interested in nobody else.

 

Aaron doesn't want him to leave. Whatever pull Kepler had been feeling from the moment they first locked eyes, he's now feeling too and oh _god_ is he suddenly glad he ended up with Doug Eiffel for a roommate. Although, the more he thinks about it, the more he wishes he had a single room. Or had roomed with this Kepler from the start. Oh god, what he wouldn't do to be the cause of that way Kepler's head is thrown back in ecstasy ( _Jesus_ , how does he make drinking water look so hot,) to be the one that draws this entity from his shell and into Aaron's own. A shiver runs down Aaron's back, completely at odds with the room, which seems to him to be on fire.  
  
A slight crackling noise brings him out of his reverie and alerts him to the fact that Kepler's nearly drained the whole bottle. Shit. Deep down, he knows that if he lets Kepler step out of this room without even getting his number, he'll never see the guy again. He's got to find a way to convince him to stay a while longer.

 

Kepler's reached the last few drops now, and Aaron swears that he's drinking them as slowly as possible on purpose, to avoid having to break the spell, to have to leave. It has the (assumably unintended) side effect of captivating Aaron even further as he wordlessly reaches for the basket by his bedside table.  
  
When Aaron speaks, his voice comes out in a husky croak and he immediately falls silent and clears his throat before continuing, his cheeks flaring with a tinge of pink, "Good. Now eat something. I can't let you go back home like that--" he mentally winces for what he's about to say, sure that he's going to fuck up, that his usual casual flirtatious tone won't come across flawlessly like it always has on command, "what _will_ your neighbors think?"

He sees Kepler's face turn even more sanguine than before and breathes an internal sigh of relief congratulating himself for not fucking up. It bolsters his resolve. He can't screw up this next part.  
  
"Chocolate? It's got caffeine in it," he asks, "so you'll at least have some alertness the rest of the day; kick your brain into hyperdrive and all that." _Stop projecting,_ he scolds himself.  
  
Kepler looks at the proffered candy bar with only a surprisingly little amount of distaste.  
  
"I... don't..."  
  
"Don't what?" Aaron turns his eyes skywards. _Please don't let him say he doesn't like chocolate. Don't break the spell, not now_  
  
There's a halting pause and then Kepler finishes, "I don't...do you have dark chocolate?"

Aaron lets out a tiny breath he didn't even know he was holding.  
  
"Sure." Dark chocolate was acceptable, he supposes, although he himself isn't its largest fan.

 

With trembling fingers, Aaron unwraps the bar, rips through the silver packaging foil and snaps off a piece with much more effort than he needed. Chocolate shavings created by the force shower into his lap, but he doesn't notice.  
  
Kepler does, and his hand is already halfway to brushing them away before he realizes exactly what kind of a position that would put him in. _No, Warren, don't start thinking about that_ . He tears his eyes from Aaron's lap and fixes them on a random piece of clothing strewn on the floor. Forces himself to feign interest in one of Eiffel's 359 athletic warmups, with the familiar Goddard Futuristics logo emblazoned boldly in the corner looking like it was staring into Kepler's own soul. Was it really possible for him to be getting even warmer?  
  
It's not until he feels the gentle hand on his jaw turning him back towards the couch that he realizes how close Aaron's gotten.

 

Kepler's paralyzed once again as he finds himself face to face with Aaron, almost close enough to-- _Warren, no._ Aaron still hasn't removed his hand from his jaw and he breathes out in a voice much hoarser than before, "You.. Need.. To.. Eat.."  
  
His other hand has the chocolate, and it's already started to melt a little and at this point does he really have anything to lose? So he pulls his face back a little, moves the rest of his body a little closer, and offers up his fingers to Kepler's mouth.  
  
Kepler doesn't know what to think when Aaron gently presses the chocolate against his bottom lip as if waiting for an invitation. So he doesn't. He closes his eyes again (there is no way he could look Aaron in the eyes for this) and parts his lips. Takes the chocolate into his mouth. Aaron's fingers follow. Sucks.

 

They're both enjoying this way too much, Aaron thinks, as he stares, _which is to say, not quite enough._ Everything's happening all at once and Aaron is hypersensitive of every single sense in the room. Kepler's angelic look, with his head at that angle and that expression on his face. The smell of his hair, cinnamon with a touch of raspberry that Aaron _knows_ is going to haunt him for months to come. The gentle hum of the rusty fan in the back corner, the only other sound in the room besides their breathing. And of course, the rasp of Kepler's tongue against his skin. Aaron heartbeat quickens. He's missing a sense. Well, he's missing two: both taste and common sense, but there's not much he can do about the latter. The former on the other hand…

 

Aaron lets his free hand slide from Kepler's face to his hair, buries it in the waves. Kepler's tongue grows heavier as Aaron shifts even closer. Both of their hearts are hammering in their chests; Kepler was almost sure that the enhanced hearing trial Goddard had run him through hadn't worked, but how else to now explain their twin beating? He finally lets his eyes run up Aaron's chest, over his collarbones, up over his neck, across his chin lips nose _eyes_ . There's a jolt that runs through him when they meet, of electricity, yes, but also of shock. Aaron's eyes are orange-green-- well, his right eye. The other is brown, but that's not what surprises Kepler so. No, it's the fact that Kepler's eyes are exact inverses of Aaron's that throws him for a loop. The small part of his brain still given to flights of fancy whispers _made for each other, meant to be_ and the words curl through the air where Kepler inhales them.

 

If Kepler is high on the feeling, Aaron's drunk on it. Time has slowed down to where he doesn't even _attempt_ to speak anymore; he knows what comes out would be incomprehensible and garbled and anyways, actions speak louder than words,  right? This is it, he tells himself, he's going in. When he pulls back his fingers from Kepler's mouth he happens to glance down and, with a start, notices that there's not a lick of chocolate left. The realization makes his stomach flip, though he has no concrete reason why. His eyes meet Kepler's, and there's a fire in the other's that brings to mind power and control and push and pull and _by god_ Aaron is _ready_ to venture into this new territory. He doesn't even give himself time to take a deep breath. He just leans in.

 

Aaron's lips meet Kepler's and Kepler gives in. Whatever ounce of self control he had left is now completely gone and he doesn't care if Aaron's dating Eiffel, if Aaron's a cheater, if Aaron's playing him. It doesn't matter, because in this moment, Aaron's _his_ and nothing can stop him from enjoying this as fully as he can. If Eiffel walked through the door at this exact moment, Kepler would offer no explanation because he _wants_ this and besides, he never did really like Eiffel anyways. It would be a shame to let such petty inhibitions stop him from enjoying this. Better to just let go and sink in.

 

Aaron is not having a similar discussion with himself. In fact, to be honest, he isn't having any coherent thoughts at all, much less anything he could string together in into anything resembling a civilized conversation. If anything, his thoughts are straying into a decidedly _not_ civilized place...  
  
Kepler's finally pushing back, leaning into the kiss and even venturing to nibble a little on Aaron's bottom lip and while Aaron has never really liked dark chocolate before, in this moment, intermingled with the taste of Kepler's tongue, he knows that the first thing he'll do when Kepler leaves is to buy the stuff wholesale.

They stay like that for what seems like hours. It's a picture perfect moment, the two of them, lost in each other, and even as the lights go down and the sun ends the day's show, they stay aflame, a bubble of warmth under the cool moonlight. The night swells and so does their fervency, each harboring secret dread that they'll never see the other again, that this was a twisted one-off of incredible proportions, but the longer the stillness stretches, the more they fall into each other again and again.

  
Eiffel, thankfully, doesn't come back that night. Neither Kepler nor Aaron question it, as it gives Kepler an excuse not to leave, to stay a little while longer. Eventually their passion reigns itself in, just a touch, as they sit pressed side by side, making small talk that means so much more, paving the way for the grand future neither of them yet know they'll have for sure. Kepler rests his head on Aaron's shoulder and wonders how a day with such a terrible start could have turned into something so...so...

  
He doesn't even have the words to describe it. And for once in his life, Warren Kepler accepts that. For once, he allows himself to relax. Just this once, he lets himself be loved by a stranger, to be held by a guy he's only just met, to let his fantasies become wishes become a reality so full of comfort and hope he's not sure if he can continue working for Goddard Futuristics after this.

  
And surprisingly? He doesn't care all that much.

  
He lets go.


End file.
